


Those Foggy Images

by KyousBeads13



Category: Disney - Fandom, Frollo, Hunchback, Hunchback of Notre Dame - Fandom, Quasimodo - Fandom, The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Fandom, hond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyousBeads13/pseuds/KyousBeads13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quasimodo begins thinking of his mother and all she could possibly be. [96 Canon]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Foggy Images

**Author's Note:**

> First upload on ao3! I've recently become reobsessed with Hunchback of Notre Dame, so I wrote a little ficlet. Enjoy.  
> \--KB

The warm breeze of spring was finally winding its way through the frozen bell tower that stood in the sky line of Paris. While not harsh enough to push the massive bells out of their dormant state, it was easy for it to send wood shavings from the bell ringer's recent carving onto the newly swept floor. They littered the dull brown with bright flecks that were pushed out of the way by a tall man's robes as they swished back and forth with his steps. He looked down to his feet and scowled at the mess he had stepped in and whipped his head around the space for his charge that was supposed to have been doing chores.

"Quasimodo," he growled out in a low tone, hearing his voice reverberate in the hallow space. A rustling noise alerted him to the one in question on his left, a flash of red hair and green tunic alerting him to his where abouts in the tower.

"Oh, Master, you're early this morning." He said with a touch of concern in his voice. Quasimodo put his worn out broom down against one of the wooden beams and made his way to Frollo who rubbed the bottom of his shoe against the dark wooden floor.

"And I see that you've been busy with things other than cleaning this morning." Frollo's eyes traveled to the city that was laid out on the table next to the one he was currently seating himself at. It seemed just about every few days, there was a new addition to the set up and he highly doubted that there were just that many people who walked around the square each day. His attention was drawn back to the man across the table who looked at him earnestly while placing the table settings and assuming his position opposite of him. He noticed the hunchbacks's green eyes moving to the rather larger than usual basket that adorned the table rather than the small wicker one that would be brought for the morning meal. "I will be gone for three days."

"W-Why is that, Master?" Quasimodo added the formality with haste after thinking he sounded too bold in his question.

"I must return to a small town East of here." Frollo took out some bread and wine, pouring himself a large glass while pouring Quasimodo a mere mouthful of the liquid. "I'm afraid that my mother had taken sick a short while ago and has passed." The judge said the sentence rather nonchalantly while bringing his cup to his lips. Quasimodo just looked at him, not sure what to say. "It is common when someone has lost a family member to say your condolences, Quasimodo. Do not forget your manners."

"Of course not, I'm sorry, but I..." Quasimodo felt Frollo's eyes on the top of his head but could not bring himself to look up at him. He had never before thought about Frollo's parents... Had Frollo even had parents? Okay, well, Quasimodo decided he would have had to have parents to be sitting before him but Frollo had certainly never mentioned any family before, at least to him. Family was such a foreign concept to the hunchback, he tried with all of his might to remember something anything about his father or mother but it was always too far back. The sound of the elder's throat being cleared pulled Quasimodo out of his head as he saw Frollo wipe his thin lips with a handkerchief before tucking it back within his billowing sleeve.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Quasimodo, but really, your silence is quite rude." Frollo began placing the food back in the basket he had brought and once again Quasimodo looked to it in question. "This basket should sustain you until I return. I'm leaving immediately."

"Right. Well, safe travels then, Master." Quasimodo said standing up with Frollo as he began to walk to the stair case to lead back down to the cathedral. 

"I expect there to be not so much as a shred of wood shavings when I get back." Frollo put a hand on Quasimodo's shoulder without looking at him before descending the stair case, his heeled boots becoming more faded as the door to the tower shut with a bang.

"Quasi's got himself a few days off over here." One of the gargoyles spoke up once the echo of the door disappeared. Quasimodo walked over to the ledge he used to look down upon the square and leaned his forearms on it lightly while the wind rustled his hair into his one good eye. He could hear the gargoyles stirring behind him, no doubt looking through what Frollo had brought him. Along with the sounds of rustling behind him, he heard the heavy knocking that was the base of one of the statues undoubtedly coming to him.

"Quasi? Are you alright out here?" The oldest of the gargoyles looked to him as he sighed and pushed his hair back with his right hand.

"Just thinking." He responded as he watched a young boy in the square. He had gotten a flower from one of the stands in the street and gave it to the tall woman walking next to him, most likely the boy's mother. A pang of... Something rang deep in his heart, deeper than the roar of the bells ever could. He brought his eyes back to the form next to him, the gargoyle that took the persona of an old and wise woman; almost like a mother figure.

That pang in his chest again. Without even realizing it, a large yet gentle hand found its way to grip the bright green fabric over his chest.

"Just thinking or just thinking about something?"

"Laverne, leave the kid alone, he's just watching." The larger gargoyle spoke up as the third joined the eldest.

"Hugo, watching and thinking can be quite dangerous." The tallest weighed in.

"You wouldn't know, Victor."

"I'm fine, really," Quasimodo stepped back from the concrete wall. He could feel the stone eyes upon his hunched back and turned back around. "I'm just thinking about mothers. That's all." The gargoyle's faces dropped. "Nothing bad. Just thinking about what my own mother must have been like. Master has only told me bad things about her, surely there had to be something good." Laverne hobbled over and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Of course there was. The best part is you don't have any way to know other wise so you can have her be whomever and however you want." Quasimodo's mind started churning with the thought of a woman he never knew. "What do you think she'd look like?"

"Probably..." He trailed off for a moment before closing his eyes. "P-probably shorter in height, with hair like mine." He opened his eyes and grabbed a few strands of his uneven red mop between his fingers. "And she'd probably know the best stories and songs. She would smile at anyone who passed her in street." The bell ringer smiled warmly at a foggy image becoming clearer.

"She sounds kind." Victor chimed in, Quasimodo unsure of when the other two gargoyles had joined Laverne.

"She was. The kindest there ever was." He couldn't ignore the low voice in the back of his mind of Frollo telling him what he knew of his mother before she died.

'She was a street runner. A whore. A despicable gypsy who left her responsibility of her child and family to chase after a man who ended up murdering her on the stairs of the Cathedral.'

'She was worthless.'

'Pathetic.'

'More of a monster than you could ever be.'

He sighed heavily and took a seat back at the table where he did his carvings. He reached his hands out towards the bare, minimally carved figures in the corner of his setting and grabbed a paint brush. He began by painting on her eyes, brown and deep, unlike his green eyes that shown ever so brightly in the sun light. Moving to her mouth, he painted an upturned red line that made the figure smile back at him. Using the rest of the red, he painted on rosy cheeks and moved to the scraps that he used to make hair. Bundling a long weave of red fibers, he put bonding agent on the top of the figure's head and pressed the hair on until it stuck. Content with his work, he put it down to try and figure out what color to paint the clothing. The gargoyles watched him curiously as his strong yet nimble hands fiddled with the wooden doll, paint brush whisking over it.

He had chosen a light blue color, that of the sky on a warm spring day such as this one, and once he painted an intricate design around the bottom hem of the dress, he left it to dry. Turning his attention to the floor, he began to sweep the shavings away with his hand and felt the sharp pain that he was accustomed to whenever he got a splinter (which was quite often). He recoiled his hand and shook it, looking to his pointer finger and seeing the dark intrusion in his skin. Quasimodo used his fingers to pull the small sliver out of his finger, a small red trickle of blood following. Placing his finger in his mouth, he couldn't help but think about the mystery woman again.

'Quasimodo, you cut your finger again?' She asked taking a close look. 'You have to be more careful, you can get an infection from this and become very sick.'

The woman in his thoughts spoke with such a soft and hushed tone unlike that of the only voice he heard in conversations with the judge. He was the closest thing he had to parent however, there was more love coming from the mother in his head.

'I'll wrap it all up for you so it doesn't hurt you. But make sure you get your chores done!' She laughed as she dropped his hand back to his side for him.

Quasimodo deposited the wood shavings into a bucket with the rest of the ones he kept. He sat back down on his bench, lowering his head to be eye level with his newest creation. What he wouldn't have given to just know what his mother looked like was unspeakable, however he had more pressing matters. If Frollo found out that Quasimodo had rung the bells late, he'd surely have his head. The man pulled himself out of his seat and up to the rafters to tend to the bells.


End file.
